The Dragon Guardians
by Endless Secrets
Summary: Dragon is dying, and Jane will do anything to save him -even if it means seeking out an organization thought to be exterminated long ago...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi, everyone! I am very pleased to say that at long last I have created my first multichapter story! I hope you like this first chapter, and I apologize for any OOCness you may find; also, I'm sorry for the choppy transitioning –I'll try and fix that in later chapters. **

**Enjoy! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, which is rather depressing… **

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

She has never seen so many foreign wares being sold at one time.

There are silken scarves, in all the colors of the rainbow and more, pots shaped like tiger heads, skirts dripping with sparkling bangles, rings of silver and circlets of gold from far off lands. Swords, bracelets, cloaks, pipes, antidotes, dogs, cushions –anything you could want is sitting politely atop a velvety blanket, available to all and any possible customer.

Or thief.

Jane fingers her sword, hanging gently at her waist within easy reach and exposed to show her squire status; her eyes dart warily about the throng of shoppers, probing the crowd for any sign of disturbance, hair swept behind her ears hastily to avoid it obscuring her vision. She is on high alert, determined to catch someone in the act of a robbery as she was assigned and prove to Gunther that _yes_, she knows what she's doing!

_I wonder where Dragon is_, she questions silently, raising her eyes from her job and scanning the cloudless sky for her friend –normally he can be found out taking advantage of such a beautiful day, scaring the shoppers out of their wits with a roar of faked anger and a swoop that just barely brushes the rooftops. But the sky remains empty, devoid of the egotistical green lizard and his entertaining (if sometimes terrifying to the crowds) antics; a quick bolt of fear shoots through her thin frame, blown off almost immediately by a carefree grin and the relocation of Jane's gaze to the people milling about her as she stands still in the middle of the cobbled street. _He could be anywhere_, she tells herself confidently, tightening her grip around her sword hilt and resuming her duty with a strong stance and a firm face. _Probably sleeping the day away and snoring loudly just to be annoying_.

"Ah, miss lady knight?" the voice that drags Jane out of her jumbled thoughts is old and frail, with a cracked whistle to the _S'_s that forces her to resist a flinch.

"Yes, sir? How may I be of service?" she replies lightly, turning in the direction of the voice and dipping her head slightly in respect.

The face that meets hers is worn and leathery, laced with wrinkles and pockmarks from a long-ago disease; blue eyes peer from between the excess fold of tanned skin, and they glitter with an intelligence Jane has rarely glimpsed –she tries not to look surprised, but her heart is beating just a little quicker now that she has fully viewed the man who called for her. He smiles at her kindly, exposing a full set of teeth –something generally unheard of among people his age– and Jane gulps; the smile is rather unnervingly false, and it takes quite a lot to keep her feet planted firmly on the cobbled street.

"Ah, yesh," he says, adjusting himself on the mounds of blankets he is seated upon and lifting a worn water jug onto his lap, "I was wondering if you would be so kind as to fetch me a cup of water from the public well, please? I'd do it myself, but my bones are rather weary from such a strenuous journey…" he trails off and looks up at the squire imploringly.

Jane muffles an un-knightly groan –the well is all the way down where Gunther is patrolling! And no doubt he'll make a fuss should he catch her with a water jug, acting as a servant to a stranger. "It would be my pleasure, sir," she says graciously, gently reaching forward and taking the jug from the man's bony fingers. He grins in return, releasing the jug into Jane's custody with a somberness she oddly wants to laugh at.

Suddenly, though, he freezes, reaching a free hand forward and pointing shakily at the sword hung about her waist.

"Are…you…a-a-a…"

Startled, the squire clutches the jug to her chest and backs up a little. "Sir, are you all right?"

The man leans away from her, his eyes wary and no longer condescending. He wrings his hands almost unconsciously, all trace of kindness gone from his face.

"…A Dragon Guardian?" he breathes in shock, staring in awe at Jane –who is still clasping the water jug tightly and trying her best not to show her bafflement.

Apparently, it doesn't work.

After a tense second of scrutinizing Jane, the old man relaxes, his fingers loosening their hold on each other as he allows a smile to stretch his lined cheeks; but this time, it is a suspicious grin, nervous and guarded, more coldly polite than his previous smile.

"Surely you must know, young squire," he says easily, "after all, you carry the sword of a Guardian, do you not?"

Jane swallows. "No, sir," she says in confusion, her throat uncomfortably dry, "I am afraid I do not actually know much about this sword."

The man's eyes widen. "That is quite a claim, squire," he says with a raised eyebrow. Jane notices with a scowl that he has ceased to call her "lady knight."

"It is the truth."

"But you _must _know of the Dragon Guardians, protectors of the final dragons remaining in this world?" He is teasing her, and Jane does not like it. Not at all.

"I told you already!" she replies, "I know next to nothing about the origins of this sword!" She backs up, fingering the dragon carving on her sword hilt with her free hand –the jug has been shifted to her other hip. "And if you will excuse me, good sir," Jane adds with a wry smile, "it will be a little while before I return with the water you requested. If you will kindly give me a moment…"

And with that, the squire turns and barrels her way into the seething mass of bodies, practically running through the crowd as she lengthens the distance between herself and the unnerving merchant. _Dragon Guardians, indeed_, she thinks to herself with an eye roll. _Sounds like he had too much to drink before the Market started_.

She continues on, heading towards the well at a pace barely below running, fingering her sword the entire way.

_I'll have to ask Sir Theodore about that tale_, she thinks, intrigued despite herself by the man's words. Her interest has been piqued.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**There you have it, folks; the first chapter of my first non-oneshot story! Reviews are love, and if I receive some I'll be so grateful. So please, **_**please**_** review, and tell me what you think! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, here I am with a relatively quick update! I hope ya all like it! :)**

**Disclaimer: Would I be writing Fanfictions if I owned Jane and the Dragon?**

**-x-x-x-x-**

Jane's head is pounding, the blood rushing wildly about inside her and making her heart pound far more than it needs to. She raises a hand to her sweating brow and bites her lip to keep herself from screaming as loud as she possibly can; the action only causes some of that frenzied blood to spurt from her chapped lip.

"Why is this happening to _me_?" Jane mutters to herself, collapsing onto her mattress with a quiet sigh. "Everything was going fine, this day was never meant to end like this."

She rolls over onto her stomach, letting her red curls drape themselves over her shoulders in a fiery curtain as she digs her head into the crumpled blankets of her bed. "And I should be down there, helping Dragon! Night should not be a barrier, especially not now!"

Her teeth clench angrily as she furiously recalls the events leading up to this moment.

_~Begin flashback~_

"Sir Theodore?" Jane calls quietly, peering around the doorframe and scanning the empty room for her mentor.

He isn't there, but he left his window open; papers are scattering about in the breeze, the aged parchment fluttering like little birds. The squire sighs a  
little at the disarray, stooping to snatch up the papers and returning them to the desk as she attempts to close the window and prevent any further mess.

But when she dumps the papers on the wood and reaches out to grasp the windowsill, a loud wail interrupts her and she freezes mid-pull.

"Dragon?" She calls in confusion, leaning out the window and staring down at the seemingly empty yard. "What's going on?"

Her words are met with another loud, pained wail, and Jane feels her heart begin to race; she knows Dragon better than anyone ever could, knows every sound he lets out of his mouth, every expression he can make (and there are a _lot_). And she doesn't like the sound of this one.

"Dragon, what's wrong?" the squire shouts fearfully, and without waiting for a reply races out of Sir Theodore's quarters and out along the stone corridor in an effort to get down to the practice yard as quickly as possible. _I bet he is just playing around_, she tells herself between pants, _I mean he likes his little jokes, and this is one of them. Isn't it?_

With a gasp for air, Jane rushes through the crowded stables and out into the practice yard, her hair frizzy and whipping about her in a wild frenzy as she scans the area for her large green friend.

There! He's curled up into a tight ball, obscured by the shadows of the far stone wall. And he doesn't look like he's playing around.

"Dragon? Dragon, are you all right?" Jane asks worriedly, her pace quickening as she nears the beast. _Where is everyone? _She thinks fearfully, unnerved by the otherwise silent castle, _they should have tried to contact me! If they even knew…_

Dragon raises his great head, previously hidden behind his wing, and meets Jane's gaze just as she reaches out to stroke his nose.

"Hello, Short-Life," he says fondly, "I was wondering where you went."

Jane smiles weakly in an effort to hide her anxiety, and rests a hand on his scaly head; a moment later she jerks her hand away.

"You are burning up! What did you eat?" She questions immediately, and her hands almost unconsciously reach out again to stroke her friend's snout. "Is it Curly Tail?"

Dragon blinks sleepily at her, "Huh?" he asks. Then, as if he just realized she was expecting an answer, "No, not that. Curly Tail felt different, more like a small sickness, not something to really get excited about –although you certainly did, just like you are now." He chuckles, attempting to lift his head, but suddenly collapses in a fit of heavy, dangerous-sounding coughs. Blood spatters the dusty earth.

Jane leaps to her feet. "SMITHY!" She yells, as loudly as she can without reaching a pitch of hysteria.

No one answers.

Frantically, the squire takes a few steps away from Dragon, calling for the stableboy once more with her hands cupped around her mouth.

Again, silence.

"Dragon, where is Smithy?" she practically wails, turning back to her friend expectantly as his coughing fit subsides. He wipes a large paw over his mouth, the scales coming away bright red, and blinks at her groggily. Jane notices with a jolt that his eyes have gone a terrible shade of yellow.

"The Market," he wheezes at her, choking a little but attempting a smile, "your King let them all off early, since it is the first day in a long time that he has had so many merchants come for that annual Market-thing you Short-Lives can't wait to blow all your earnings on. He needs the money."

Jane feels her eyes widen in understanding, but the emotion is soon replaced by the constant racing of her heart and the rushing of the blood in her head.

"Why did they leave you if you were so ill?" She questions angrily. Dragon rolls his discolored eyes.

"Jane, you get so fired up about the silliest things. I am fine, just a little under the weather-"

"That is not what I asked you."

"Good heavens, you really cannot see that I-"

"Dragon!"

"They left me here simply because I was fine at the time, all right? Satisfied?" The large creature sniffs haughtily, stopping mid-sniff to choke a little.

Jane nods slowly, "So how long have you been feeling like this, Dragon?" she asks suspiciously.

Dragon shivers, although the day is unnaturally warm, "It has been a progressing feeling. I started the day out just a little sleepier than usual, but you had already left to go patrol the Market, so you did not see anything. Then, as it approached midday, I started feeling more and more sluggish. Then I felt terrible, but being the strong, handsome creature that I am, I kept it to myself and did not say a word when your other Short-Life friends were dismissed for the day. I've been here since, sleeping." He yawns unconvincingly. "I think I shall have a little rest right now, come to mention it…"

Jane stops him, her hand brushing his nose lightly to get his attention. " As if!" She says with a sharp laugh, "No rest until we get down your symptoms and I can speak with Smithy and Sir Theodore."

Dragon moans.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

"Well? What do you think?" Jane asks, nervously shifting her gaze from the sick dragon to Smithy and back again. "Do you know what it is?"

Her friend shakes his head thoughtfully. "I am not a trained Dragon healer, as you are well aware," he replies slowly, "None of the horses have symptoms that even come close to Dragon's all at the same time." Jane nods silently.

"You said he complained of both chest and stomach pains, coughing up blood, and fuzzy eyesight. But you also told me his eyes are yellowed, his tongue almost white, and he refused to move at all because he claimed he could not feel his limbs. And I have not the faintest idea of what could be causing it. I am most sorry, Jane. Mayhap you could speak with Sir Theodore? He has all those books of Dragon Lore, after all." Smithy pats her shoulder kindly.

"Where _is_ Sir Theodore?" She wonders aloud, turning to her friend with an inquisitive look. "He was not in his quarters when I checked a few minutes ago…"

Smithy gives her a gentle smile. "He should be there now," he says, "I saw him head for the stables to check on his horse when we first got back, but by now he must be in his rooms."

Jane nods at him, and after a hasty, "Look after Dragon, will you please?" trots off towards the knight's quarters in search of her mentor.

He has indeed returned to his rooms, and is sitting hunched over his papers when Jane peers into the area.

"Ah, Sir?" the squire calls softly, stepping forward and dipping her head in respect even though he has yet to turn around. "I was wondering, if maybe you had a mo-"

"Dragon's sudden illness brings you here, does it not?" interrupts Sir Theodore, looking over his shoulder to meets Jane's worried gaze. She blinks, surprised for a second, then lapses back into her nervous state; she shifts from foot to foot as she speaks.

"Of course it does, Sir," she replies, dipping her head again, "I am most concerned about him. Do you have any idea what is wrong?"

Sir Theodore turns around fully in his chair now, his eyes solemn and hard.

"Yes, I know what is wrong with Dragon." His voice is quiet, and Jane feels her heart begin to beat even faster than it already is at his tone.

"Then, sir, w-what is it?"

Sir Theodore places his hands on the paper-littered desk and raises himself up, until he reaches his full height and has been silent long enough for Jane to feel little bolts of fear spiking through her body.

"It is a disease I have only read about," her mentor begins, walking purposefully over to his bed and reaching for a thick volume lying on the covers. "Apparently it was supposed to have died out long ago, so as a result there is very little remaining information about it that is still legible." He blows a little dust off of the book.

"What Dragon has is an ancient form of it called the Night Curse, as far as I can find, what with all his symptoms."

Jane tugs at her hair. "And, exactly how deadly is this plague, Sir?"

She decides not to ask why Sir Theodore went through all the trouble of searching for information when she has yet to mention it to anyone. For a moment, Sir Theodore is silent as he flips through the yellowed, worn pages of his dusty book. Then:

"Jane." Her mentor's voice is still calm as he walks over to where she stands and offers the open volume to his squire, "This is a rather serious illness that Dragon has acquired in one way or another, and were it not limited to animals I would have him quarantined. I am afraid to say that it is fatal."

Jane feels her breath catch as she takes the book from the senior knight. Her world spins just a little, and suddenly the room is somewhat smaller than before.

"I-I see," she chokes out, not quite believing her ears as she glances down at the musty pages in front of her; they smell of cabbages, oddly enough.

"Read this when you get a chance, Jane," Sir Theodore says with a wave towards the book. "It will help you understand what is wrong and what will happen as the disease progresses."

Jane nods, her eyes staring blankly at the pages without seeing them at all; Sir Theodore's kind dismissal is muted and far away, and she only vaguely understands that now that she has her information she is to leave and let Dragon rest on his own for a while –it is the best thing for him at the moment.

So she leaves, wandering silently to her room and only allowing any emotion to show once she has closed the door to her room and has collapsed onto her bed with a muffled sob.

_~End Flashback~_

Jane raises her head from the blankets (now reeking of cabbages), and stares furiously at the thick, smelly book inches from her nose. The page with the Night Curse's information on it has been bookmarked with a pale green strip of silk, and despite her fury at everything and her overwhelming fear for her best friend Jane sticks a tentative finger under the ribbon and lifts the top papers up so as to see the bookmarked page.

The first words that catch her eye is enough to make her sit up and lift the book onto her lap.

_Dragon Guardians_.

**-x-x-x-x-**

**Dang, this one's long! I hope to add more exciting stuff later on –should I up the rating just in case? Please let me know! :D**

**Oh lookie there, a Review button… **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi! I'm back, with the third chapter of ma story^^! Not sure if I like this one –the action and fighting I keep wanting to add continuously puts itself off as I try to set the story up! -_- But anyways, please read and review; a special thanks to those who have reviewed my previous chapters, your feedback is really appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon. Yet. XD**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Jane's eyes widen in surprise, her interest in the book suddenly aroused. She jerks the volume farther up onto her lap, ignoring the terrible smell, and leans back against her pillow in anticipation of a long, complicated read.

Oddly enough, though, the information the book holds is relatively straightforward, if a little hard to decipher; long ago stains and smudged ink make some of the phrases intelligible, a fact that Jane finds rather annoying.

_The Night Curse_, the heading reads in large, thick letters. Jane bites her lip worriedly.

_The Night Curse is currently in its seventh year of devastation, after a mysterious arrival that brought our kingdom to its knees in a single month. It can destroy the bearer of this illness in anywhere from one to two weeks, as the disease takes hold of the victim's insides and eliminates each organ separately. With one appendage gone, the victim eventually crumples from the lack of its benefits and spends its remaining days in total pain._

_As of this moment, the disease seems to have taken root in our animal population, and the lack of meat has sent many of our citizens to an early grave. The Night Curse is, unfortunately, not limited to animals however. It seems to also thrive equally well in humans, and can prove fatal when contracted. Humans die far faster than animals once taken by the Night Curse, and suffer far more –they only last for about five to seven days, and then are also led to their death._

_Luckily, animals seems to be incapable of passing on the disease, and in all seven years of its existence the Night Curse has remained restricted in the two creatures; animals do not pass it on to people, keeping it among themselves, and people in turn keep it among their ranks. In both, though, the Night Curse is deadly and fast acting, and if one shows even one of the symptoms listed below, they should immediately be confined to their room and considered as good as dead._

_Night Curse Information: _

_Symptoms:_

_-Yellowed eyes_

_-White tongue (spots may appear)_

_-Extreme dizziness_

_-Chest pains_

_-Stomach pains (vomiting may occur)_

_-Heavy limbs_

_-Unusual fatigue_

_-Heavy coughing, coughing up blood_

_-Blurry eyesight_

_Victims:_

_Both humans and animals_

_Length:_

_Humans –five to seven days _

_Animals –one to two weeks_

_Outcome:_

_Death_

_Cure:_

_Unknown_

Jane swallows hard, her heart racing in her chest and her hands clenched into tight fists. _Dragon cannot die_, she tells herself firmly, _those are just foolish words scribbled by some mad wizard, nothing else. He is too strong for it; he is a dragon, not some weakling sheep. He will be fine, he must be! _She bites her lip again, tasting the salty tang of blood as she does so.

"There must be more information…" she mutters, scanning through the article once more in search of details. "Maybe the next page will say something…" The squire lifts her eyes over to the page on her right, doing her best to read the words slowly although she itches to skip to the end and skim up from there in search of information.

_There has been word as of late that there is indeed a cure for the Night Curse _(Jane sighs in relief)_. Apparently, the cure is a small plant called Winterleaf, a rare and hidden plant that only thrives in the rocky region of Aolim. It is supposed to be the only thing to counteract the Night Curse, when it is boiled in thyme-soaked water and the leaves chewed by the victim soggy and whole._

Jane smiles in relief, her shoulders sagging. "At least there _is _a cure," she says aloud, and raises a hand from the page in order to run it through her hair. "Now I just need to know where Aolim is. Surely Sir Theodore must know. He has all those maps, and mayhap he will let–" She stops as her eyes, which had been scanning the page against her will, and her brow furrows in surprise and sudden concentration. There is more.

_Aolim is an island isolated from most of our world. It is separated from the mainland and is surrounded on three sides by the sea; there is a thin strip of land leading to it from the mainland, and it is still known by most as it has a strong trading connection with our kingdoms._

_Word has had it that Aolim may in fact be home to the Dragon Guardians, an organization marked by the miniscule dragon tattoos on their right shoulder and their dragons, of course. However, as the number of dragons mysteriously declines, so have the Guardians' number, and as a result it has become increasingly difficult to find them; the only way now to truly tell if someone is a Guardian is the dragon symbol, found on their sword hilt as well as their shoulder._

_Winterleaf can only be found on the far side of the island, where the Guardians were last glimpsed, and as of now the only found plant is in the capable hands of His Majesty King Warios, in the event that the Night Curse should infiltrate the castle._

The smile falters, disappears from Jane's pale face as she considers the date the book was written. Slipping the silk strip back between the musty pages, she carefully closes the book and stares at the cover.

It is far older than she even imagined.

She gazes at the cover, her mind whirling as she considers every possibility, every loophole, every mode of transportation available to her should she dare to do what has been tickling the far reaches of her mind since she read the first sentence about the Night Curse. It seems like a silly idea, impossible, reckless; searching for this Winterleaf would be a fool's errand, especially considering its last sighting.

And yet… and yet it is so plausible. If she had the maps, and the supplies, it might just work. And if there is even the smallest hint of a chance that a cure is available –no matter how little of it remains, if any– then why should she pass up a chance to find it? If it will save her best friend…

Suddenly Jane starts, jerking up and turning to look at her door. Did she just mistake… no, there it is again, a sharp rapping on the worn wood, this time accompanied by a: "Jane? Are you there?"

The squire quickly slams the book shut, shoves it under her blankets hurriedly, and calls out a reply as she uncurls her legs and bounces off the bed. "Yes, come in!"

With a slight creak, the door opens to reveal Jester and Rake, their eyes wide and home to a slightly shocked, uncomfortable look. Jane offers them a weak smile as they step inside –her moment of revelation is not enough to muffle her worry and sadness.

"Hello," Rake says nervously, looking anywhere but at Jane. "Pepper asked me to bring you something to eat, she says she will try and visit later, once the royal family has finished with their meal." He holds out his hands, in which rests a small bowl holding some fish and bread. "Since you have not eaten since this morning…"

Jane retains the smile forced upon her face as she reluctantly takes the bowl. "Thank you, Rake, and please give Pepper my thanks as well; she does not have to visit, I know she will be exhausted by the end of the night." Her voice sounds ungrateful, and she knows it. But she cannot seem to muster up the strength to sound cheerful, and another smile refuses to show on her face as she places the bowl gently on her mantel and stands there silently.

Jester steps forward too, although his hands are empty; having nothing to do, he clasps them together and hides them behind his back as he speaks.

"How…how are you feeling?" he asks gently, but Jane keeps her back to him and glues her eyes on the hairbrush inches from her nose.

"I am well," she replies hoarsely, listening to Rake's footsteps as he walks to stand near Jester. "Or at least, as well as can be expected." She attempts a dry laugh.

They don't laugh.

Jane turns slightly to meet their gazes, doing her best to focus only on them and not on the fact that a corner of the borrowed book is peeking out from under her bedcovers. "How is Dragon, anyways? I aim to visit him in a few minutes…"

Rake's eyes widen slightly, "Ah, well, he is not doing well, I am afraid," the gardener says uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head, "On the way up we checked on him –he has yet to eat, and was asleep. There was blood on the dirt-" Jester shoots him a glare that does not escape Jane's notice. "-I-I mean, it was probably old, he has been asleep so long he has not had time to cough up blood anymore…" he trails off, but Jane does not push the matter.

"I hope he is well," she replies, the seriousness of the situation setting in at last: she has barely a week to find a cure. "And in fact, I think I will get some rest," Jane turns around completely and offers an entirely false smile to her two friends. "I plan to stay up all night with Dragon tonight, in case he will need anything."

Jester and Rake get the point. Rake nods hastily and turns to head for the open door. "Of course, Jane," he agrees, "So shall I tell Pepper that she need not come up?"

"Yes please," the squire says, her mind spinning and no longer attentive to her guests. "And thank you so much for coming to see me. Will you let me know if anything happens?"

"Of course we will," Jester answers quietly, stepping forward and briefly touching her arm, "and try not to do anything reckless, Jane."

Her eyes widen in surprise and confusion, but the twosome have already turned and hastened out the door into the bright sunset.

She follows them to the door, watches their progress down the steps, and then closes it shut with a quiet _thump_.

"All right, then," Jane says, turning her back to the door and observing her untidy room with hands on her hips. "I had better get started packing, then!"

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

The night is brighter than usual; the full moon seems to enjoy being able to cast its gentle light on Dragon's sickly face.

Jane says nothing, just gazes sadly at her best friend as he slumbers fitfully, his breathing ragged from the bloody coughing.

_This is not safe_, she tells herself as she shifts the pack from one shoulder to another. _They will worry, I just know it. And what if I cannot get back in time? Dragon should not… should not… leave without me there. _She swallows hard, and reaches a hand out to stroke the dragon's nose gently before withdrawing it into the folds of her cloak. _Do not think of it_, she tells herself. _Better to have at least attempted to help him than to just let him die with no hope. _

With a quiet sigh Jane straightens, squares her shoulders, and with a brow furrowed in concentration sets off across the practice yard; she does not look back.

If she had, she might have seen that she is not the only one up this early.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**And there ya have it! :) Quick note: The Black Death came after this story, around 1331 or so –as far as I can recall Jane supposedly lived in the 900s. So this plague/illness/whatever is entirely made up from my own head and any relevance to the Black Death is completely coincidental. ^_^ **

**Anyways, thanks for reading, and please review and tell me what you think! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not like this chapter. I tried, don't get me wrong: it has been edited so many times I've lost count, rewritten twice, and scoured for missing words and phrases. But nothing I do seems to satisfy me about this chapter, and to make up for it I'll post chapter five way sooner. :) So please go easy on me, I tried to fix it! Oh, quick note: I am a J/J shipper, but I like J/G friendship. So if there will be any pairing in this story, it'll be J/J. Just a heads up. ;)**

**Disclaimer: If I owned Jane and the Dragon, we would be in our seventh season. Unfortunately, I don't, and we're not. How sad… :(**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

"Here, is this enough?"

With an internal groan, Jane pulls an extra few silver coins out of her pocket and offers them irritably to the merchant. _It had better be_.

The man, a thickset fellow with a dark scraggly beard, raises an eyebrow at the coins, his red eyes unfocused and unsure.

"Maybe…" his voice is thick and heavy from a recent hangover. "Depends on how far yeh want to go on this'un." He pats the mare in front of him. "Farther yeh go, more yeh pay."

_I should have brought Cleaver_, Jane thinks furiously, digging deeper into her pockets and roughly jerking a large golden coin from the depths of the cloak. "How about this? How long is the horse available for, again?"

The man's eyes widen in surprise and consideration. "Ah suppose…" he says haltingly, observing the coin with unmasked interest. "If yeh want the hurse, yeh can 'ave her fer awhile, so long as yeh return 'er when yehr done."

"Excellent," Jane replies, "and you will keep it to yourself that I bought the horse, yes?"

The merchant –if you want to call him that– slowly raises a hand to scratch at his lanky hair. "I dunno…"

Jane glances behind her urgently, offering the coin farther out enticingly; she has been in her town for far too long –the sun has already risen and is reaching its peak above the ramshackle houses.

_I should not have stayed here_, she reflects as the man considers the money suspiciously. _It was not a good idea, I know, but what else could I do? Starting this journey in the middle of the night, when it is pitch black and dangerous, was not an option. But they most likely have noticed I have left by now – I had a tracking lesson with Sir Ivon scheduled several hours ago, and since I did not show up…_

"Vera well," the man says at last, giving in to the money and waving a hand carelessly towards the mare just behind him. "She's yours. Name is Tess, ah think."

Jane tries not to roll her eyes as she steps past the merchant and offers a hand to the horse in an attempt at a friendly introduction. The mare eyes her with dark brown eyes for a moment, waiting to see if Jane's hand is about to hurt her; when the squire does not move, she breathes heavily and pushes her snout into her palm.

"Hello," Jane says quietly, her fingers gently stroking Tess's soft nose as she normally does with Cleaver. "We are in for some rough riding, girl. Do you think you can handle it?"

Tess looks at her silently, her eyes bright. Jane grins.

"Good," she says, reaching for the reins dangling on her new horse's neck.

Suddenly, though, the sound of clopping horse hooves fill her ears, and she spins around to see exactly what she is trying to avoid.

The knights have realized she is gone, and guess what? They decided to come looking for her.

Her heart speeds up, and everything is unexpectedly swirling around her. They cannot catch her. Not now, not when she is so close to leaving…

"Come on, Tess," Jane mutters, untying the rope holding Tess to the post and swiftly swinging herself up onto the mare's dull back to settle hastily into the saddle. "First test as my ride."

Tess whips her head about, and steps easily out into the cobbled streets, now cleared from the previous day's Market. Jane jerks her hood up, pulling the soft fabric over her eyes and ducking down over the beast as Sir Theodore and Gunther come riding slowly into view. _Please do not let them see me, please…_

She kicks at Tess's side with her muddy boots, urging the horse on frantically even before the animal has fully trotted two paces away from her post and her previous master.

"Go on, girl!" She breathes into a velvety ear, and Tess ducks her head in annoyance; reluctantly, she begins to speed up, her body bouncing Jane slightly as they exit the covered posts from the back entrance and attempt to head out onto the main road leading out of town.

Jane slumps down in the saddle, forcing her eyes to stare only at Tess's neck and her whitened hands clasping the reins like a thin leather lifeline.

"Wait, Tess," she murmurs, pulling on the reins for a second and slowing the now irritated horse to a walk. "We do not want to appear suspicious, especially now." She chances a brief look back over her shoulder at her mentor and her rival as they pull their horses to a standstill and quickly dismount to speak to the man who sold her the horse. The man is gesturing slowly, looking bored and nonchalant; Jane sighs –he cannot have just given her away, it would not make sense after all she paid him. She pulls Tess to a stop to watch the goings on.

And of course Gunther turns around right then.

Her heart speed jumps from calm to terrified in less than a millisecond; she is in trouble now, her rival would certainly take pleasure in turning her in while Dragon wilts away. _Don't you dare… _Jane screams in her head as she grips Tess's reins tighter than ever and reaches up with her free hand to pull the cloak hood farther over her face. She is too frightened to move as he meets her gaze and his eyes widen from behind a curtain of shaggy black locks.

And then her nemesis nods silently in her direction, and jerks his head around to talk to Sir Theodore.

Jane does not waste a moment. Snapping out of her fear-induced state, she spins around in the saddle, spurs Tess on with her cold, mud-clogged boots, and the next thing she knows she is galloping flat out of the town, coat flying and wind drying her eyes out so fast she has to blink constantly in order to see. And she does not stop Tess until she is far out past the gates and racing along an abandoned stretch of dusty road, worn down by the trails of so many visitors. There cannot be anyone else to see her while she remains in her home.

Slowly, the amount of people they pass thins to only a few, easily spotted from a long ways away and effortlessly avoided by a detour into the trees that mark the beginning of a thick wood; the light, dusty road gradually narrows until it becomes a two lane path, and it is only here that Jane slows Tess down to a walk to allow her a moment to catch her breath.

"All right girl, just a little bit of walking, then we need to speed up a little," the squire says aloud to the animal, allowing her hood to drape back over her shoulders now that they are alone; her fiery curls bounce loudly out from the folds of the dark fabric, framing her face in a curtain of scarlet. _At least we can afford to slow down_, she thinks nervously, reaching one hand to her waist to finger her sword. _But certainly not for long…_

Tess just snorts, and continues her brisk walk farther along the path and into the trees.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

The sun has at long last decided to drop below the horizon, and Jane has finally agreed to stop for the night –riding Tess for so long at varying degrees of trotting and speed walking has left her sore and tired, as well as nervous about the day's riding. If the horse is tired, the rider has no hope of escaping should trouble befall them. Or at least, that's how Jane sees it.

With a glance around her to check for any other unexpected travelers she may have missed, the squire jerks on the reins and tugs Tess over to the left side of the road, into the thick green brush lining the dusty path. The mare obeys, too tired to make it seem as though she decided to stop, not her rider; she plods noisily off the road and crashes through the abundant plants until Jane finally pulls harder on the reins and mutters, "Whoa," through parched lips. She sits for a moment in the saddle as Tess comes to a standstill, breathing quietly in the stillness of the woods, then checks behind her to make sure that she can see the road from her campsite; the nearest inn is still over several hours off, and Jane does not think she can handle any more. Her stamina has a limit, and she has already gone over it.

"All right, girl," Jane says aloud, lowering herself off of Tess and patting her on the nose as she pulls the saddlebag off her back, "We are done riding for the day. So take a break, tomorrow is a full day of traveling, and we might as well be rested up." With a grin at the horse, she quickly sets about fixing a small, inconspicuous fire for the night, a blanket to keep her warm in anticipation of a chilly morning, and a slice of bread to hold her through until then.

_If Gunther had not let me go, I would never have gotten this far_, she reflects gratefully, popping bits of the food into her mouth as she settles onto the grass near Tess. _Actually, that was rather unexpected; normally he would take any chance to get me in trouble, although maybe this time he understood my motive. For once he did something nice…_ She chews thoughtfully, swallowing the hard bread with a little wince and glancing upwards to check the sun's progress down below the horizon. It is mere inches from the mountain tips far off in the distance, but its gentle rays are still bright enough to read by. Luckily.

Jane turns and digs through her bag, feeling for the thick book she should never have brought along. Her fingers grasp its torn spine, and she tugs the volume out of the leather container with only a twinge of regret. _I will return it when I get the cure_, she tells herself, and quickly flips it open to the bookmarked page –the one that mentions the Dragon Guardians.

_Word has had it that Aolim may in fact be home to the Dragon Guardians, an organization marked by the miniscule dragon tattoos on their right shoulder and their dragons, of course._

Her eyes scan greedily over the yellowed page as she searches for any information that could tell her more; the idea of an organization holding the Night Curse cure as well as the last dragons is more than enough to grab and hold her interest.

Her search reveals nothing –no notes scribbled in the margins, no drawings beside the words, no–

Jane stops. A small slip of paper is peeking out from under the page, a different hue than the rest of the book. She reaches under and pulls the small paper out, her heart just a pace faster at the idea of a breakthrough.

The paper is folded over onto itself, and with fingers shaking oh so slightly Jane peels the fold back to read the scribbled writing covering the surface.

_The last Dragon Guardians have been banished from Kippernium. Have gone to Aolim, and brought the remaining dragons. Only fifty or so left, half without their dragon; will attempt to help those still alive. Swords have been lost in last night's battle, the sign on the hilt is sure to give us away. It is coming to an end, Aolim is isolated enough to keep the remaining safe._

Below the muddied words is the symbol of a dragon.

The dragon on Jane's sword hilt.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Yuck. Well, reviews are necessary, and those of you who have already reviewed, I am so grateful, thank you for your wonderful feedback! And those of you who haven't… please do!**

**Thankies, all! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

**Yeah okay, I This chapter took **_**forever **_**to write –I had a bit of a mix-up with my plot, but hopefully I've got it worked out again. :)**

**It's come to my attention that this story is going **_**way **_**off my original track, so as of now there are no promises as to how long this will be. :D But enough of my talking, here's the new chappie! I hope you like it! :)**

**Disclaimer: Jane and the Dragon is not mine. It should be, but it isn't. :)**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

Jane awakens to the rain dripping off the leaves above her head and slipping lazily into her collar, the smell of damp earth invading her nose and forcing her drooping eyelids wide open in surprise and dismay.

"Oh no…" she mutters, shoving herself up off the soggy ground with an annoyed sigh as she observes the dark mud stains marking the corners of her outfit. The fire has long since gone cold and wet, but Jane stamps on it anyways from her seat under the tree and grinds the remnants into the earth with a vehemence she does not often show at the weather change.

"And now we get to ride all day in the rain," the squire growls angrily, scrambling to her soggy knees and doing her best to fold the blanket without getting herself any wetter. "I hope Tess is all right."

Tess looks rather put out, and she shows her annoyance quite clearly by snorting angrily and stepping away when Jane attempts to place the wet blanket atop her already damp back. She dances away into a puddle, her tether pulling tight on her mouth and forcing her to whinny in irritation.

Jane is in no mood for a whining horse. "Come here, you," she says, jerking the rope towards her and dumping the wet pack, along with the saddle, onto the horse's back. "You agreed to handle some tough riding, and we are certainly in for it today. Don't worry, girl; I am suffering right along with you."

Tess snorts loudly, but this time reluctantly stays put while the squire swings herself up into the (wet) saddle, settling herself in with a little yelp at the cold. And with a quick glance to make sure her campsite is clean and as empty as she found it, she kicks Tess's side lightly and urges her on through the dripping brush. They ride out onto the road, slick and wet with the rain and now quickly morphing from an annoying drizzle into a heavy storm, and Jane jerks her hood up over her face in preparation for a long, arduous ride.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

She can barely see anything now, the rain is so thick that the misty vapors obscure all but Tess's drenched neck. The water is now coming down in bucketloads, and far off in the distance Jane can hear the gentle, warning rumble of thunder.

_I suppose shelter would be helpful_, she tells herself as she shudders from the cold, _if I checked the map correctly last night we should be arriving in it soon, and mayhap I can take a break. Even if I should not be…there are only a few days to go before it is too late…_

She raises her head to stare ahead into the thick sheets of water, blinking droplets out of her eyes and shivering.

There is a light ahead, although her eyes are so wet and sore it might just be her imagination playing tricks. It is very faint, but as she watches, the glow brightens and expands until it is intense enough not to be mistaken for a mind trick and simply caresses her vision, sore from the hours of the downpour.

"A town?" Jane mutters, blinking slightly as first lightning, then thunder, strikes yet again not far off. "We are not supposed to be nearing the town for an hour yet…" she trails off with a shrug, and simply digs her heels wearily into the horse's soaked sides. "There is some shelter close by, Tess. We might as well pick up the pace."

Her ride reluctantly obeys, trotting unwillingly along the flooded path and ignoring the flashes of lightning and the strikes of thunder as she hurries along.

The town –if you want to call it that- slowly takes on a recognizable outline as they reach its outskirts. Small, ramshackle buildings, low and dark because of the storm, huddle close together in small bunches; the only light showing can be glimpsed towards the corner of the settlement, in a building a few windows wider than the other houses and filled with noise. A tavern, if Jane is not mistaken.

"Look, Tess," the squire says, "They should have a stable for you, and I can rest for a few minutes. What do you say to a quick break?"

By way of reply, the horse simply speeds up.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O

The tavern is warm, to say the least. It is heated and crowded with people seeking entertainment; the rainstorm appears to have driven every adult in the town into this inn, and probably several travelers, too.

Jane can feel her heart beating a pace quicker as she attempts to enter the pub inconspicuously. Tess has been penned up in the tavern's stables, and she seemed content to simply rest and eat whilst her rider bought some food and drink. So Jane has left her, now dry and unsaddled, in the stable and headed into the pub.

Jane shifts her rucksack uncomfortably from one shoulder to anther as the door squeaks open and she slips into the sweltering room. Her fingers are lightly brushing the hilt of her dagger, hidden beneath her traveling cloak but within easy reach; so far though, no one seems to have noticed she has entered –they are all too busy with their own personal conversations.

_Just walk up to the bar and ask for a meal. It is not that hard_, she tells herself, and straightening as tall as she can Jane weaves between the many people and grabs on to the wooden slab between two large, burly customers.

The bartender, a thin stick of a man with only a wisp of graying hair atop his head, glances at her and starts in surprise.

Jane does not blame him, really. _I must look a fright_, she thinks with a self-conscious blush. _What with my soaking hair, and muddied cloak… and the fact that I am a girl, I suppose…_

The bartender quickly overcomes his surprise. "Good day, miss," he says, handing the man on Jane's right a foaming mug and sliding a food-filled plate over to the customer on her left.

"If you want to call it that," Jane replies. "I was wondering if I could have the cheapest meal you offer, with some water to drink please." She brushes a wet strand of crimson hair away from her eyes. "How much will it be?"

The bartender looks slightly unnerved, but smiles at her nevertheless.

"Two silver for water and food. It is a good price," he says. Jane raises an eyebrow. "Of course." Slipping her other hand into her pocket, the squire pulls out the money and hands it to the man with a tight smile. "There you go. How long do you think it will take?"

The bartender shrugs. "Five minutes, maybe less."

"Good. I will wait here for it." Jane settles herself onto the abandoned stool and rests her chin on her free hand. The bartender blinks, and with another shrug turns away to holler orders to some waitress at the other end of the room.

Always alert, Jane turns slightly so as to have a better view of the room, one hand on her dagger and the other hanging loosely beside her. _Thank goodness this cloak hides my sword_, she thinks, reassured in spite of herself. _I am not in the mood to deal with another shocked person thinking I am a Dragon Guardian. Those people have been gone for so long it is surprising enough that anyone remembers who they are at all..._

She pulls her mud-splattered coat tighter across her chest and lets her eyes scan over the customers. There is no one particularly exciting, just some traders in a corner muttering among themselves in another language, and a shady looking individual observing everyone over the top of his mug and glaring at those who meet his eyes; the rest seem to be just ordinary people sipping from mugs and eating like pigs, filling up the room with their large forms and loud voices.

"'ere, miss." Jane spins about at the voice, coming nose to nose with a bored-looking waitress.

"I am sorry, what?" she says, glancing down as a plate piled with gray slop is slid in her direction.

"'ere's yer food," replies the waitress, dumping a worn mug filled with water down beside the dish. "Youse all paid up?"

Jane nods. "Thank you."

If she is expecting a tip, the waitress gets none, as Jane immediately turns her attention to the food and does not look up again. She stabs at the plate with her fork, observing with silent distaste the grayish substance, then braces herself and shoves it whole into her mouth.

It tastes almost worse than it looks.

"Gah!" with a yelp, Jane spits the slop into her napkin and picks up her drink. The water does little to ease the taste, but for a moment the squire sits there, staring at the bottom of the mug and letting the liquid slide down her throat. _What is _in _this stuff? _She thinks disgustedly, finally lowering the cup in order to look around and see if anyone noticed her revulsion. _Certainly not food for people…_

"Are you all right?" asks a voice as Jane glances to her right. "Is the food poisoned or something?"

Jane smiles at her unexpected neighbor and starts to reply: "No, it just tastes like—_Jester_?"

She turns around to fully, her heart and mind racing, to take in the fact that her friend is actually _here_. And stops short.

The boy sitting next to her, looking concerned and a little puzzled, is not Jester. He certainly _looks _like him, though; he has the same grey-blue eyes, the same slight build, the same nose… but his hair is a dark chestnut and is short and curly like a young child's. And he is _far _shorter than Jester.

"Um, miss?" he says nervously, obviously slightly alarmed by Jane's appearance and behavior. "My name is not Jester. It is Beppe."

Jane blinks at the boy, who, now that she looks at him, is far younger than the Jester back home –he can only be around nine or ten.

"Forgive me," she says with a blush, "I thought you were a friend of mine, but that is impossible. He is back at the castle wondering where I am. Why would he be here?" She forces a laugh, but the boy remains quiet. For about two seconds.

"Wait a minute!" he cries suddenly, the light of an epiphany sparking in his eyes. "Is your name Jane?"

The squire feels her own eyes widen. "What? H-how did you know that?" she asks agitatedly, leaning away from the young boy uneasily.

"Oh, I know all about you!" Beppe replies excitedly, grinning widely. "'Jester' told me everything about you in his letters. You are Jane, the pretty girl squire with red hair, who has a dragon for a pet and beats up boys with staves." He crosses his arms triumphantly over his chest.

Jane blushes slightly, but lets a silence descend for a moment as she processes this new development. "Y-you are correct," she says slowly after a pause, "And if I am also right you are Jester's family member in some way, are you not?"

Beppe jumps off the stool. "Yep! And Mother will be so happy that you have information of my cousin, you have to come and tell her!" He reaches out and takes Jane's hand, tugging her off the stool; once they are on equal ground, the squire is surprised to find that she is almost two heads taller than the boy. Jane smiles weakly.

"Uh, Beppe? I am not sure if I should take a detour. See, my dragon is ill, and I need to find a cure for him. The place where the cure can be found is still rather a long ways off, and…"

Beppe ignores her, and taking ahold of her hand he begins to pull Jane through the crowded tavern, her cloak billowing about her thin frame. "We'll take care of everything!" he says cheerfully, and hauls her between two tall traders rising from their table and out the door.

The storm has finally subsided, revealing the tail end of a sunset; the shadows of the tavern are long and black, stretching over puddles and people leaning suspiciously against the walls. Jane blinks at the change of temperature and lighting, stopping short although the boy continues pulling on her arm. Her forehead wrinkles into a frown, and she tugs away from Beppe with a surge of energy.

"Wait, Beppe," she says, "I need to get my horse Tes-" She suddenly stops and swallows hard.

A blade is pressed tightly against her throat, sharp and bright against the shadowy sky.

"Naw," says a voice, rough and reeking of smoke. "I don't think yer gonna need yer 'orse."

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Oooh, a cliffhanger! XD Please review, it would make me so happy!**

**And thanks **_**so **_**much keacdragon –without your deadline it might have been **_**ages **_**before I updated this. ;)**

**Thanks all, and again, review!... please…**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm baaaack, and here's the newest chapter! There's a little more bloody stuff in this chappie, along with a fight scene! Woot! XD I hope you like it, thanks keacdragon for the deadline! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, I do not own Jane and the Dragon, I do not own Jane and the Dragon… that enough times? XD**

**_-x-x-x-x-_**

Jane does not move, freezing at the sensation of cold metal against her skin; her eyes flick instead to Beppe, who looks too shocked and frightened to do anything except remain as still as a trapped hare. His grayish eyes, dulled against the setting sun, seem unable to blink –he stares at Jane, then at the knife, then back at Jane. The squire swallows gently, incapable of a reassuring smile, and opens her mouth to speak.

"Don't yeh be sayin' nuthin'!" Comes the voice again, the smoky scent drifting out from between dry lips to smother her words. "Or yeh get the slip."

Jane scowls angrily instead and turns her gaze back to Beppe; she raises her eyebrows urgently at him, glancing first from him to the stables behind the tavern, then back to him, then back to the stables. _I hope he is as smart as Jester_, she thinks, amazed at her own calmness and lack of hysteria.

Beppe gets the message –she can see it in his widening eyes. With another terrified glance at Jane he turns his back on her and her captor and takes off around the corner into the shadows.

A curse issues from the man's mouth, and he beckons with his head to an unseen individual. Jane's heart speeds up. _Not another one! Sir Theodore would be ashamed of me…_

"Get 'im!"

At these words another previously unseen figure melts out of the shadows on Jane's right and whisks past the two in a flurry of dark, ragged coat ends and the heavy smell of alcohol. The only thing the squire can see as he rushes by is a shock of red hair fluttering in the created breeze and thick, dark gloves hiding pickpocket fingers.

And just as suddenly as he has come, the second stranger is gone, and only Jane and her captor are left standing conspicuously in front of the tavern; the man seems to realize this, and with another curse tightens his grip on Jane and hauls her back into the shadows he appeared from. The squire staggers back along with him, waiting on tenterhooks for him to loosen his hold as he turns to see where he is. _Then_, she thinks excitedly, _then I'll get him._

But something else happens that makes her forget all about escaping for a moment.

As he stumbles sloppily backward the knife slips slightly from his sweaty palms and slices neatly across Jane's neck. She yelps quietly as the pain from the wound consumes her in one heavy blow, and blood drips quickly out of the thin cut and soaks through her high collar; Jane shivers as it trickles down the underside of her chin in small scarlet rivulets, considering with a sudden spike of fear exactly how much of the liquid will in the end spurt from her neck and cloud her clothing.

Yet another colorful term is spit from between clenched teeth, but the man is still moving backward and his grip is far looser than before. And then he slams into the wall, and everything is perfect for what she needs to do. Jane grabs her chance.

With another yell she ducks out from under his grasp, staggering forward a few paces in surprise and dizziness as she regains her lost balance. The sensation flashes through her body like lightning, luckily, and in less than a second Jane is up and whipping her dagger from her side.

Her captor raises his own dagger, and Jane barely restrains a flinch at the sight of wet blood –_her _blood– dripping down the blade and pooling about the hilt. The man smiles cruelly at her, raising the weapon up and rushing towards her with a terrifying glint in his eye.

Jane braces herself for the impact, and as her attacker charges towards her she raises her own dagger to meet it; there is a loud clashing noise as they connect and Jane pushes forward until they are so close she wrinkles her nose in disgust at the man's bloated, unkempt appearance. He staggers backward as she shoves him off, obviously underestimating her strength, and as he does so the squire draws her sword with a _shing _as it slips from the sheath.

"Do _not _ever do that again," she hisses furiously, and this time it is she who charges, her heart racing beneath her wet cloak and her head spinning from the occurrences. The man, snarling, jumps forward with his bloodied knife to meet her, but with a single swipe of her dagger Jane knocks the tool from his hand.

She has won.

The man backs away from her, balling his hands into fists and rolling his shoulders in preparation for a fist fight. Jane can see the hint of discomfort and embarrassment rolling in his reddened eyes like a wavering storm, and oddly enough the sight only fills her with understanding that she is dominant this time. She smiles tightly and steps forward with both blades raised.

"No," is all that slips from her mouth, before the man rushes once more at her and she sidesteps his attack with a grace she didn't know she had. And as he returns for a fourth time, using all his speed to turn and barrel towards her, Jane sticks out her foot and he is sent flying. Curses spill from his mouth like sour milk.

"Now what did I say?" Jane says mockingly as she approaches the downed man cautiously, surprised at her daring. "You are not to take me captive like that again. Ever."

The man turns over and scowls at her, but as he reaches for her legs to unbalance her Jane leaps lightly up and avoids his grasp. Her heart is thumping so loudly and fearfully in her chest that any more gloating is automatically smothered, and she instead points her sword at his exposed neck.

"Who do you work for? Why did you do this?" She demands, jabbing the point at his flabby neck. The man edges away, and Jane follows with her sword tip to his throat. "Well? Answer me!"

He groans, and his curses on her and her family echo in the shadowy space. "I am not goin' ter tell yeh anyfink!" He snarls. "Yeh wouldn't have the guts ter kill me anyway."

Jane lets the blade inch closer to the man's neck until it is lightly brushing his skin. "Are you sure?" She breathes. All knight's training has gone out the window in this moment, and all she can do is hang on and bluff it out –killing may not be in the Code, but here there are no rules.

He swallows hard, as she did just moments before, and glares up at her. "I still ain't gonna tell yeh. Just that we Slayers don't appreciate the comeback yer makin'. You don't think you can make it twice, do yeh? Yeh barely made it _once_."

_He is a DragonSlayer?_ Jane thinks confusedly, her mind spinning at this development. _But Sir Theodore said his family… and they oppose the Guardians? Well, that makes sense I suppose, but… they still exist? How can no one know about this until now?_

"Oh do shut up," Jane says instead, realizing with a sinking feeling of disappointment that this man is done speaking, and with a deep breath raises her sword high. His eyes widen in surprise and fear, and then sag closed as the hilt of her weapon comes crashing down onto his skull.

_He will probably be out for a while,_ she thinks nervously, leaning out into the light of the sinking sun to glance around._ And what am I going to do with him now? Beppe- _She stops suddenly, and once again that lightning bolt of fear lances through her skinny frame.

"Beppe!" She cries, and with a last, nervous glance at the unconscious man takes off around the corner in search of Jester's cousin.

_Please be all right, please, please… _she mentally pleads, as she rounds the next corner around which Beppe disappeared and slows almost immediately to a wary pace; once again that fickle heart of hers is beating frightfully quickly beneath her cloak, and with another swallow (feeling the clotted blood on her neck crack slightly at the gesture) she ventures slowly forward.

_Please be all right…_

A muffled scream echoes suddenly, followed by a deathly silence, and Jane practically leaps out of her skin in fright.

"Beppe!" She shouts, and rushes forward into the shadowy stables with her sword raised and at the ready.

The sight that meets her eyes makes the squire almost want to use the weapons at her disposal.

Beppe is sitting nonchalantly in the hay of an empty stall, holding a slightly more-red-than-it-should-be brick in one small hand. The unnerving associate is at his feet, face down in the soft straw and as still as a fallen statue; blood pools at the base of his skull.

"Beppe… did you just…" she says quietly, walking tentatively towards the slumped form and the crouched little boy hunched solemnly over his knees. He blinks at the sound of her voice, and as suddenly as Jane has arrived he is up and hugging her as tightly as he can, straw scattering as he does so.

"Jane!" he shrieks happily, burying his face in her now-disgusting cloak and squeezing his thin arms tight around her waist. "I am so glad you're all right! What would I have done if you were hurt? Who were those people? Why did they attack us? Is that cut infected? My mother can help clean it up, you know. And how are we going to get there? How did you get so good at fighting?" his questions stretch on and on even as he backs away from Jane and helps her tie the man up with old tack, babbling like a madman to ease his former terror and calm down. She nods easily, and simply shoves the man up into the corner of the stall (what else can she do with him? Turning the two attackers over could only lead to more uncomfortable questions) and sloppily piles hay over his face; as Beppe slowly begins to ease up on the words and at long last drops the brick into the mess she takes his small hand in her own and smiles gently. _I feel like a mother…_

"Beppe," Jane says kindly, backing up and out of the stall in order to cross the way and enter Tess's. "It is all right. But we really need to get going _now_, do you understand me? They could wake up at any moment." She unlocks her horse's stall door hurriedly, fumbling with the lock, and rushes inside to dump the worn saddle once more onto Tess's back; the horse nickers quietly and does not move as Jane tightens the straps with shaking hands and fits the bridle into her mouth. Beppe, snapping out of his fearful trance, hurries in after her and immediately leans down to adjust the stirrups as Jane pushes the saddlebag roughly up over Tess's rump with a little grunt of effort. She smiles tightly at him over her ride's back, and with one last pull on a leather strap deems her ready to go. Beppe looks frightened again.

"Come on," she says urgently, sticking her foot into the stirrup and swinging herself easily into Tess's saddle, "I need to get you back to your camp. Can you lead the way in the dark?"

The little gypsy smiles weakly at her words and takes the hand Jane offers him. "I could find my way on my hands and knees blindfolded," he states bravely as he too settles himself on the horse; Jane struggles for a moment to find the reigns, reaching clumsily out beyond his skinny frame seated in front of her and scrabbling for the leads. He hands them back trustingly, with a look that so reminds her of Jester the squire has to pause a moment.

And then the look passes across his face like a forgotten shadow, and with a loud, "Hyah!" and a slap of the reigns Jane urges Tess onward and out the stable door. They thunder out along the enclosed walkway and burst into the dying embers of sunlight as the ball of gold at long last slips beneath the horizon.

"That way," Beppe says confidently, pointing ahead and slightly to the right.

With a nod of consent Jane swallows again, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of dry blood, and with a quick glance around kicks at her horse's sides.

They ride quickly into the darkness, melting into the shadows as though they had never come.

**_-x-x-x-x-_**

**And that's it! :) I hope you liked it, and would you please let me know if I should up the rating? I need to know! :)**

_**Please please please **_**review! I'd be so very grateful!**

**Thanks again! :D**


	7. Chapter 7

**I hope you all like reading my junky ANs, cuz here comes a long one. XD**

**I made a deadline for myself, and I'm certain it's because of this that this chapter is so bad. No, I'm dead serious: it's **_**bad**_**. The writing is sloppy and dull, the imagery I keep aiming for is atrocious, and this filler chapter's plot… *shudders* If you can overlook my choppy writing this time and don't hate on me for such a terribly dull installment, I would appreciate it to no end. :) I wish so badly that I could have done better –to make up for it I'll make the next chapter the best I can, with action, dialogue, etc. That might mean that chapter 8 may be a little while in coming (we have that stupid state testing for the next two weeks, and it's going to be what I call "stressful" XD), but I will do my best to make it worth the wait. :) And if you read all the way through this AN, I congratulate you, and here's a virtual cookie *hands you one*. Again, please forgive me, and review if you feel like it (I would love it if you did^^). Thank you to my loyal reviewers/readers, I'm sorry if I let ya down –I'll do better next time, I hope! :)**

**Disclaimer: I. Do. Not. Own. Jane. And. The. Dragon. But I will! XD Eventually…**

**_-x-x-x-x-_**

"There you are, dear. Now, lift your head so I can see your neck, would you please?"

Jane blinks in assent, lifting her face to the cart roof to expose the slit neatly placed across her throat; the ceiling is low and cracked, as though it has spent centuries surviving every kind of weather –and it probably has. The wood is riddled with miniature splits, like a maze of splinters waiting to rain down upon her upturned face, but oddly enough nothing happens.

Suddenly she opens her mouth in a silent gasp as rough, stinging leaves are abruptly pressed tight against her wound and dig into the tender, pale skin. The woman holding them clucks her tongue at Jane's obvious pain, and reaches with a free hand to takes Jane's clenched fist. Her fingers are thick and rough.

"Sorry, Jane. I forgot; you have not heard of our healing methods yet."

Jane responds with an irritable sigh.

The leaves press down again, and their sharp ends prick into the reddened spot; Jane waits patiently, though, silent even as a familiar, warm liquid trickles down her throat and is quickly wiped away by a softer cloth. It is accompanied almost immediately by an unknown substance, _Probably leaf sap or something_, she thinks, a cold sensation that leaks into the bloody area and fills it with liquid and a sharp, tangy odor. The woman releases the pressure and pulls away.

"You can look down now, Jane." She says kindly, letting the squire's fingertips slip from her own, larger ones. Jane smiles slightly at her words and lowers her head in response; to her surprise the pain that has been slowly growing to a terrible throb has ceased. She rolls her neck suspiciously, but the feeling has faded away almost completely.

"It will die down for a while," says the woman, crushing the now-useless leaves into a ball and wrapping them in the cloth, "but if these are not applied again in a few hours, you will feel the same pain as before. Just let it heal for now. Your wound must have come from a dirtied sword or something; the redness around the area was hot to the touch and incredibly swollen." She rests large, paw like hands upon her knees and smiles at the girl.

Jane nods slowly, still rather surprised at the simplicity of the medication. "May I… possibly… have some for later on?" she asks quietly, and feels the twinge of nervousness at being around a stranger – a feeling that she was sure she had smothered. "I will be off soon, and as I do not know when next I will find these herbs…"

The woman grins, exposing fewer teeth than Jane expected. "Of course, dear, of course!" she says, and turns to the small package beside her on the bed. "We should have some to spare. Only apply two or so at a time –they will last you for a while, I daresay, but please use them sparingly." With another near toothless smile the woman turns back to Jane and dumps a small, crumpled handful of the greenish leaves into her soiled hands. Jane observes them with interest, and tugs her last clean handkerchief from her pocket in order to wrap them correctly; as soon as they are gently bundled amongst the soft cotton, she tugs her saddlebag nearer and dumps them in.

"Thank you very much, Mistress…" Jane starts, turning to the woman; suddenly she trails off embarrassedly, and the realization that she doesn't know the woman's name drops down onto her shoulders in a hissing ball of sheepishness. But the healer-lady does not seem fazed.

"Mistress? Pah!" she says jovially, waving a giant paw about as though a terrible scent has permeated the rickety cart. "My name is Annamaria, and if you call me anything else I'll have the whip ready."

Jane leans away suspiciously at her words, obviously meant in jest but not being absorbed as such. _Annamaria, huh?_ She thinks, drinking in the large, bearlike appearance, brightly colored, almost garishly decorated dress and scarf, and wide blue eyes harshly apparent against sun kissed skin. _I would never have thought it..._

"Foolish name, huh dear?" Annamaria says as she rises slowly to her feet and snatches up her satchel. "My mother was all for the long names, I suppose –may she rest in peace." With another deep chuckle she begins to hobble out the door on oddly elfin feet, but Jane is not going to be left behind in some rickety cart. She leaps from the rumpled bed covers, hauling her saddlebag over one shoulder, and chases after the burly woman.

"So, how many of you are there?" she asks as she reaches Annamaria and falls into step with her, intrigued by the seemingly endless gypsy camp. She had only just been awakened a few minutes ago by Annamaria's knock; after a hard ride all night long to keep up with the Gypsies, Jane had staggered into the camp like a madwoman, watched Beppe run for his mother, and practically collapsed on the way to someone's cart. And all she can remember is waking up in the midst of the sunrise and thinking _Sir Theodore will be annoyed that I slept so late_ before slipping back into a dreamless slumber. After that, it was a total blank until she had blinked into consciousness hours later.

Annamaria considers the question, pausing a moment beside another (more cared for) cart to think.

"I don't really know, Jane. See, we are all sort of like a large family, if you know what I mean, and if you really get down to it all of us are related in some way, even if we just married into the group. And what with people constantly leaving or falling behind or going ahead or whatnot, it's hard to keep track. Sometimes we even get people who are not related to anyone, just folks hitching a ride to the next town!" Her laughter echoes round the space as she sets off again, and Jane tags along, wondering where they are going but not really sure if it even matters anymore –the carts are like a wild maze.

"So then… where does Beppe live?" She asks confusedly as they continue on, and a small mob of brightly clad children run past. "I have not seen him."

Annamaria looks about and shrugs. "His cart is over to the west of the camp, since his mother would rather keep him away from the other children. She is a little conservative, if you know what I mean." She winks, but Jane ignores the gesture, too preoccupied with craning her neck to see everything and everyone.

"And Jester's mother and father? Do they live near there as well?" she asks, dodging a young couple and glancing up at Annamaria.

The woman blinks at the squire, and for a brief, fleeting moment the bustle of the camp is muted, smothered by silent words passed between the two.

"No," she says at last, glancing away sadly and walking a little faster, "they were killed by bandits not three months ago."

Jane freezes.

"_What? _Does Jester know?" her voice is frantic and panicky, and she searches fruitlessly among the cheerful passerby for a sign of two people she has never seen before –and never will.

Annamaria shakes her head sharply, obviously trying to push off her sorrow. "They stood in the way of our limited treasures, and bandits do not really have all that much reverence for the human life…" she trails off, and for a little bit they are silent as they walk between the bustling, brightly clad people.

_Jester is going to be so upset_, Jane thinks fearfully, _and what with this being so recent, it is no wonder he has no idea…_ she bites her lip in concentration, staring at the folds of Annamaria's skirt as it brushes gently against the soft grass. _What am I going to tell him…?_

"Here we are!" Annamaria's voice is high with false cheerfulness, and she comes to such an abrupt halt in front of a neatly painted cart that it nearly results in a collision of the twosome. Jane veers away luckily, and nearly crashes into another Gypsy, a man clad in a green tunic and dark plum breeches, as she does so. And as she does her best to stagger away from him, Jane gets a glimpse beneath his flapping outer vest and sees a sword so like the one that nearly killed her she rams back against the hard side of the cart. Her breath is knocked from her chest, and for a brief moment she stops to draw in air as Annamaria concernedly watches her.

"I-is that what I think it is?" she asks nervously, but Annamaria just seems mildly puzzled.

"Huh?"

"The sword, I have seen it someplace before, although not on that man. It is-"

At last the adult catches on, and with a quick glance around takes Jane's wrist in her large hand.

"I know, the sword. It is all right, I know what you think…" she says soothingly, as though Jane is a very young, frightened girl. "But the sword is just a-"

Jane tugs away angrily, "Does he know what it is? Or what it might make others outside your camp think he is?" The previous night's skirmish flashes through her mind, and she suppresses a shudder. Her hand slips to the sheath sitting quietly at her waist.

Annamaria looks nervous. "Mayhap you had best come inside," she says slowly, and beckons for Jane to enter her cart.

**_-x-x-x-x-_**

**Ew. Just ew. I will update as soon as I possibly can to make up for this monstrosity, and add all the cool action stuff I want to as well. So please, if you want just ignore this truly awful chapter and wait until I can rewrite it, reupload it, and add a new one to smooth it all over, that would be wonderful^^. Thank you so very much! I'll understand if you don't want to review, but if you would I'd greatly appreciate it.**

**Thanks again! :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Here's the new chappie, thanks keacdragon for the deadline! :)**

**Note: This will be upped to a T rating, I've decided. The minor gory description here might not present a good image for little kids. Who would randomly be reading this… XD And I think it might just get worse after this, but nothing sexual or anything –just violence! :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon. But then again, I don't own Coca Cola, so maybe you have to be a wealthy businessperson to get ahold of it… And I'm broke.**

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

The night is cold, heavy with the threat of rain and near to bursting with smothering darkness; Jane glances up as a tendril of the slippery air snags her cloak with icy fingers, and her shoulders sag at the sight of the shadowy clouds filling the sky.

_Why? _She thinks exasperatedly, as her numb fingers tug the loose bit of cloth back about her thin frame. _It is not fair that just as I choose to leave, it gets rainy. I mean really, I have enough on my plate without another storm…_

Her brow furrows in annoyance as she treads across the dewy grass, a light blush warming her face for a moment as she stumbles in an unseen rut.

_And now they place the makeshift "stables" in a place no one can find…_ Jane thinks irritably, and the pucker of a scowl between her brows deepens slightly.

She continues on, though, her gaze flicking back and forth from the choppy grass to the silent carts; no one is supposed to know that her stay with the Gypsies has come to such an abrupt end that no one should _know_ that it's been terminated. The carts are dark, luckily; no light shines in the slats of the shuttered windows, no sounds are heard from behind the rickety doors and no barks issue from the dogs guarding them. All is silent and still, awaiting the inevitable storm with smothered breaths.

Jane scowls into her cloak as she considers the day's events with the air of an accomplished observer. _Their carelessness is infuriating,_ she decides at last, _I mean, just picking up weapons from whoever leaves them near a camp? And then _keeping _them? It does not make sense –even my sword brings unwanted attention…_ the cloak smells like horse, and with a little sniff of distaste Jane jerks her head up so as to breathe in the wet air instead. _Annamaria made such a big deal about it all, one would have thought there was some sort of huge connection to these Dragon Slayers. And then she goes and says, "It is nothing, we just pick up whatever we find and use it without question." Has she any idea how _dangerous _that is?_

The squire raises her head higher, as the amount of carts at long last begins to thin out and leave a path clear to the post where all the unused horse are kept. They are bundled together, a large, noisy mass of animals with no clear distinction between the beginning of one horse and the end of another; the only way to distinguish them is to walk around and observe their faces, which Jane does with far less enthusiasm than necessary.

_At least by leaving I can keep them all safe, _Jane thinks, her exasperated mood slowly slipping from her grasp as she wanders along the row of well-fed horses. _Even if Beppe will not understand_…

A little twinge of regret slices through her body, but Jane shrugs it off almost immediately as Dragon's sickly face pushes Beppe's from the front of her mind. _He will have to try,_ is all she can tell herself, reaching for the reins of Tess's bridle as she comes across her faithful ride standing calmly in the middle of the row. _He just has to…_

Tess looks comfortable. Her mane has been brushed, the once-stringy hairs now soft and silky under Jane's hand; her tack has been oiled as well, and as the squire untangles the reins from the wooden post and leads her ride around the other horses she lets a tight smile tug at her pale lips. The Gypsies are kind, if a little scatterbrained…

With a little grunt Jane flings the pack over Tess's rump, fingers fumbling slightly as she tightens the straps and adjusts the stirrups again to fit her. The silky leather slips through her hands, and a curse echoes loudly within the squire's head as she alters the saddle once again. At last it slips into place with a _click_, and Jane grins in triumph.

"Finally," she mutters, and her fingers slide once more over the saddle and stirrups, checking for loose straps or tickling buckles; nothing shows itself, though, and suddenly Jane's hands come to the end of the line –she's checked every bit of tack, all in the space of five minutes, and yet she lingers. The stifling night does nothing to help her contemplation.

_Maybe I should have let them know I was leaving… _she thinks nervously, but her body refuses to obey her mind and suddenly her foot is in the stirrup, her body in the saddle, and the reins in her icy hands; heels dig into Tess's sides, and in a cloud of wet earth that splatters up against her boot leg the two take off into the dark, racing past the temporary Gypsy territory and out into the road.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The sun is rising at long last, its watery golden fingers tugging insistently at Jane's sagging eyelids and forcing them to open reluctantly; a yawn issues from her mouth, stretching and pulling her lips into a warped silent scream. She is _exhausted_.

"Good girl, Tess," the squire mumbles incoherently, patting her horse's side with a weak hand. The night has passed without incident, and though practically all Jane can do is thank the heavens that no dagger-wielding assassin has taken advantage of her fatigue, her body has tensed at last after a hard night's riding; she has the vague sense that half of it was spent galloping through unfamiliar countryside along a road that, now that she looks down, has narrowed to little more than a path between the thick towering trees surrounding her. It's a miracle that the sun can even manage to penetrate the grasping branches as they interlace their leaves to create something of a canopy above Jane's head. Once again, the squire realizes with a jolt that sends her eyes wide open for a moment, that she is alone, traveling one her own through a place she is not quite comfortable in –but then again, Jane is beginning to leave the little tingles of fear in the back of her head. There is no room for hesitancy or alarm anymore.

With another cautious glance around, Jane reaches behind her into her saddlebag and tugs from it the book's map, torn from the binding in a moment of haste and folded into a little yellowed square flaking at the corners –the bits of parchment flutter about in the gentle, cool wind as she opens it and stares intensely at the little images sketched within the haze of folds.

"Now, if I am correct we should be nearing Armswald…" Jane mutters contemplatively, her free hand trailing along the page until it comes to a rest at an image of a thick band of forest stretching up along the paper. "And as Armswald is a port city, we may be able to catch a ship to Aolim." She pauses for a moment, rocking back and forth slightly as Tess treks tiredly through the foliage, her head and tail drooping. "But Aolim has that strip of land leading to the mainland. Mayhap we can simply ride along that to get across? But that is probably a three day journey… but the ship voyage would cost more…"

Her thoughts consume her like the sleep pushing at the corners of her eyes, willing her to think and figure a way out of the predicament without wasting any time. _Dragon only has so long…_ she thinks fearfully –she has yet to actually voice the concerns swirling within her, threatening to burst out from her mouth as dry sobs or her eyes as wet tears.

That four, going on five, of the fourteen days have flitted away. That the book documenting the Night Curse is so old that the virus may have changed over time, may affect Dragon differently than those before him. That if Jane does not hurry up and find the cure that most likely went extinct long ago, her best friend –

Suddenly her head jerks around in a swirl of fiery hair. A sound is echoing through the sentry-like trees, loud and pained as a wounded, dying animal.

Jane freezes in the saddle; she can feel Tess tense up underneath her, unsure of whether to buck and flee or remain where she is and investigate. For a horse, she certainly knows what she's doing…

Again the cry sounds, and this time Jane can make out the distinguishing noise of a human voice. Her heart begins to race beneath her muddied cloak, pounding out a rhythm of the fear she so easily smothers and causing the cloth to rise slightly as her breathing picks up.

The sound is growing louder.

Tess's ears fall flat to the side of her head, and with a sudden jolt Jane kicks at the horse's sides in a desperate attempt to get her to take off in another rush of hooves and earth. But it's too late.

A figure staggers out from the nearby brush, wailing and calling like a madman, hands stretched out before him as he gropes blindly for something, anything to hold on to. Blood pools about his eyes, trickling down from once-golden locks in rivulets of crimson and staining the grey coat covering his skinny form a terrible color.

"Help," he whispers through dry lips, the screams dying in his throat as he senses Jane's terrified presence. "Please…"

And with that he keels over on to his face.

Jane lets loose a cry, tugging on Tess's reins even though the animal shies away from the limp body. She leaps from the saddle, her legs almost giving out after such a long ride and her head spinning with dizziness, but staggers over to the silent person and collapses onto her knees before him.

"Sir, sir!" she cries, pulling at the body and hoisting the face up onto her lap. With a shudder she takes in the mangled, bloodied face, with both old and new pus-oozing scars crisscrossing the high cheekbones and an empty eye socket staring eerily into her own green ones; but the back of the boy's –she is pretty sure it is a he now– head is almost worse. Jane can feel the torn skin, sharp skull, and remnants of soft hair against her knees, feel the bright liquid seeping through her leggings and staining her clothing and suppressing a shudder as the boy's remaining eye flutters open. It is a bright blue, intelligent and alert, and as Jane attempts to hoist the body up to her chest so as to better slide him onto the whinnying Tess it focuses on her smudged face. The boy smiles weakly, and more blood trickles from his cracked lips.

"Hello," he says weakly, his head lolling slightly. "You really need not bother helping me, though."

Jane blinks at him and continues to raise him up. "Why not?" she asks absentmindedly as she manages to stand on her knees and hold his distorted body to her chest. The boy coughs.

"I'm gonna die anyway," he chokes out softly, as another noise catches Jane's attention –more scrabbling sounds in the brush, the cacophony one of human feet. Are this victim's comrades on their way?

"No you are not!" she says by way of reply, pausing in her labor to listen closer to the sounds approaching them. Her argument is as weak as the boy's voice, but he ignores it.

"Listen to me," he mutters in her ear instead. "I wasn't done yet. The people you hear crashing through them trees? They're after _me_."

Jane feels her eyes widen, and with another burst of energy shoves upward so they are both standing. "What?" she gasps.

"I'm not jesting, they really-"

The bushes part behind them.

_**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Dun dun duuuuuun…XD I hope you enjoyed!**

**To LisaKatKaram: Thanks for your kind PM, I'd very much like to mail you back, but you disabled your PMing feature so that's why I haven't replied. Maybe you could un-block that feature…? Thanks^^.**

**Oooh, a review button! And you conveniently want to push it! :D**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello! This chapter is more like a quick glance back at home to see what's happening, I'm sorry it's short but it's like this for the simple reason that the next is going to be my longest chapter **_**ever**_**. So please don't expect an update for a while, thank you for your patience! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon. MEH! XD**

**__****-x-x-x-x-**  


The sun is rising higher still, lifting up above the heads of the sweltering peasants and casting an unexpected, watery glow upon their lanky hair. They continue on, of course, working in their usual way, immune to the tickling, heated sensation of the sun's rays.

But the weak heat is getting to Dragon, Jester can see it from his perch at his windowsill. The makeshift shade they made for him from a stretch of canvas, poking ropes through the two corners and looping it to the stone wall, and propping up the opposite end on rickety posts, does not seem to be enough to keep him cool. He is fidgeting restlessly even as the jingler watches from his window, eyes bulging slightly in his sockets and blood spurting from his throat in little hiccups.

"Jane…" the reptile croaks, and Jester looks away respectfully.

_Poor thing…_ he thinks sadly, as he watches Dragon flip over onto his stomach and retch a white milky substance onto the dusty earth. _He's in such pain._

Dragon yelps suddenly like a wounded animal, his claws tearing at his chest as a visibly painful shudder wracks his now-bony form; all trace of the healthy, boisterous animal Jane mysteriously left five days ago has fled, leaving only the skeletal remnants of the beast to writhe in pain.

_Jane should be here…_ Jester thinks miserably. _Dragon should not be alone._

But he is alone. No one will venture near his restless, fevered body, most likely from fear of catching this foreign "Night Curse" and dying just as slowly and painfully as Dragon is. Even Sir Theodore, known for a long time as the only dragon expert in the kingdom, keeps his distance from Dragon and simply watches sadly from his balcony; the last dragon in existence, withering away from some ancient illness must just be too much for the elder knight to bear.

Jester sighs quietly, withdrawing into his room and closing the shutters on Dragon's jerking form. Watching an animal die is never nice, but to watch one so large and magnificent and rare do so in the midst of an unusually sunny day is even worse.

"Darn it, Jane!" he mutters to the empty room, as his fists clench in anger. "Where are you?"

_If I had known where she was going, that night,_ he thinks furiously, latching the shutters closed and turning his back on the smooth wood, _then I would have stopped her immediately! I should have known that she would leave like this. It's her nature._

He jerks the hat from his head, crushing it into a ball of blue fabric with a distress he was not expecting.

_He is _dying_, Jane. _Dying._ And he wants you; I wish you had told me where you planned to go, and not left me to speculate and worry! _Jester sighs quietly as the moment of wild, upset emotion suddenly subsides, fading away into nothingness and leaving him with a crumpled hat and a heavy silence.

"There is not much I can do anymore…" he whispers to the stifling room. The memory of watching his friend's slender form, cloaked in black, sneaking from the castle and out into the unknown flashes across the broad expanse of his mind, but with a tremendous shove Jester pushes it to a far corner and buries it amidst the recent memories of Jane and Dragon. Now is not the time to dwell on Jane's disappearance.

With another gentle sigh Jester unclenches his hands and smooths out the crushed Fool's hat; the now crinkled blue sits limply in his slim fingers, warm from clutching it to his chest.

"She had best hurry up," the boy mutters to himself, as with a shake he rests the jingling cover atop his swirling golden curls. "Because I have the terrible feeling…"

He does not finish the sentence aloud, even as he adjusts the hat, hurries across the stifling room, and continues out the door back into a lesser heat to attempt to fix Dragon's cover. He does his best to even smother the final words in his mind, but they leap up anyways like flies; always there, even when you think you have at long last eliminated them –they appear out of nowhere and buzz in your ears and eyes and cause even more of a disturbance than before, because you know you failed to destroy them the first time around.

…_Because I have the terrible feeling you are already too late._

Jester scowls and bats away the words as they flutter in his head, reaching for him with a truth he refuses to acknowledge, and jerking down on the poor, destroyed hat, he continues on along the dusty earth to climb the stone stairs and adjust the sunshade.

But Dragon has fallen silent now, his limp form stretched upon the hot bed of dirt and his bony chest heaving with weak breaths. The sun does not seem to matter anymore, and his wide, staring eyes do not acknowledge anyone but the hallucinations of his beloved, missing friend.

_Does it really matter, anymore?_

_****__**-x-x-x-x-**_

**Thank you so much everyone, please review! :D**_****___  



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